


Brief Encounters

by limit_breaker



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Firsts, M/M, Pre-TFA, canon-compliant-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limit_breaker/pseuds/limit_breaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having just graduated from the Academy, 23-year-old Hux sneaks off to a distant, unregulated planet for one brief taste of freedom before committing himself to the First Order irrevocably. There he encounters a strange, frantic looking boy, equally desperate to flee the life he's been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By the light of the night

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be a quick and dirty thing but then... well... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Beneath the thick layers of woolen clothes he's got on to protect himself against the harsh environment on this frigid, nameless planet, his heart is racing in his chest. He's determined not to let it, or his quickened breath, be on display for the degenerate scum that seem to flock to Outer Rim places such as this. He supposes he should probably not think of them as 'degenerate scum' right now-- he's one of them, after all. But just for tonight, he quickly reminds himself. Then he'll go back. He just needs... a minute. A minute to get it all together. Just one single bloody night for himself. The first and only only he'll take, he swears. He'll go back tomorrow, but right now, right now he needs this. And there's no one here telling him not to. No one telling him anything. No one here is in any state to judge, and no one in a position to judge will ever know he's here. He tells himself this again and again like a mantra and pushes open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, heading into the warmth inside.

Loud, cacophonous noise that the resident rabble think of as “music” hits him like a jackhammer, assaulting his ears and high-born sensibility. The dimly lit place reeks of smoke, alcohol, and stale vomit and is full of dozens of different species and races, most of which he's never seen or heard of before.

He sets his jaw and pushes forward against the crowd to take a seat at the bar, not deigning to react when he's jostled about by lifeforms that he suspects would be polishing his boots back on Arkanis.

An insectoid bartender with giant red polygons for eyes swivels towards him, antennae twitching, expectant. 

“Whiskey. Neat.” The only drink he ever heard his father order. He says it evenly, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a few credits, which he sets on the bar.

A few of the other patrons turn to stare at him and the bartender makes a grating buzzing noise, seemingly annoyed now, and motions for a droid. A red and white K-8 unit on wheels approaches the bar and informs Hux that Basic isn't spoken here, but it would be willing to translate for a nominal fee.

“Whiskey. Neat.” Hux repeats, eyes still focused on the bartender as he sets a couple extra credits on the counter. The droid buzzes and beeps and the bartender sets a glass of amber liquor in front of Hux, sweeping away the credits as he does with a claw-like arm. The droid rolls off and everyone turns away from the young foreigner, ignoring him.

Fine. Perfect. It's what he wanted, anyway: everyone to leave him alone. He sips his drink in relative peace; no one at home knows where he is, he reminds himself. His trail is covered. His comlink is silenced and off. And no one here seems willing to understand him anyway, unless he wants to keep company with a particularly rapacious droid, and he's not that desperate.

He sits nursing his drink, enjoying the way it burns his throat and warms his stomach, which he's beginning to regret not filling before throwing alcohol down into it, but it'll get him drunk faster, he knows, and that's what he wants, anyway. Just this once, he keeps telling himself every time his mind starts to bring up that unerring fact that his parents will disown him if they ever find out he's here. But why shouldn't he be? Why shouldn't he be allowed just this one respite, after everything? Hasn't he earned it? He's 23 and fresh out of the academy, top marks. An achievement he'd expected to be more proud of, but it instead feels about as hollow as his stomach.

His parents hadn't even congratulated him before they were making plans for his next move. They'd only turned up to his graduation to show off in front of the other parents, congratulating themselves more than anything. How hard they'd always pushed him, how much they'd paid for his studies and tutelage in his younger years. As if Hux hadn't worked his own ass off to get where he was, pouring all his free time into vein attempts to satiate them. As if he didn't have anything else he would have rather been doing. As if he'd ever been given a choice. As if it mattered what he'd wanted. He sets his empty glass back on the bar and motions for a refill, obvious enough to not require the assistance of the droid. He's not going to pay for that again.

Again a glass is placed in front of him and again his credits are swept away. _'When in company, never have a second drink,'_ he hears his father's advice in his head. _'Before you know it, you'll be saying stupid things, or worse, doing them. Save yourself the shame and embarrassment.'_

Reasonable advice, probably, Hux assumes, but he didn't come here to be reasonable. He also reckons the _'save yourself'_   was more of an implied _'save us',_  but they're far from here and won't find out. This isn't going to be the first time he gets drunk, of course, but it's the first time in public, around other people who are also inebriated. There's a certain thrill in that. Just as he brings his second drink to his lips, he's hit by an icy cold blast coming from the open doorway where another young human now stands, looking out of place and distressed, hesitating in the threshold.

The bartender buzzes angrily, and flails at least three of his arms at this new figure, and several other bar patrons start muttering and shouting at him as well.

The boy shuffles into the tavern, tracking snow as he does, and shuts the door tightly behind him. The barflies grumble to each other and turn back to their drinks, effectively ignoring this kid just as efficiently as they continue to ignore Hux. The only open seat is one at the bar end opposite where Hux is sat. Hux watches as this new person approaches it awkwardly, taking a seat and leaning across the counter top. Hux notices he's got a rather feral, frantic look about him: black hair wind-swept and wild, robes tattered and frayed, coated in mud and dampened by snow. His nose is too big for his asymmetrical face and he keeps chewing his lower lip. Even the eyes of this boy-- and he really does look like a boy, Hux decides-- have a look that seems unhinged. Hux's upper lip curls at the sight of him, unpolished and unfinished. The kind of person his parents would hate on-sight. The kind that would get the shit beaten out of him at the Academy until he fell in line. The kind Hux had always been curious-- _no, don't go there_.

“Bartender!” The kid shouts, catching the scowling attention of everyone around him.

The bartender's giant eyes swivel around to look at him and the boy sits up straighter, lifting a hand. “You will give me three shots. Whiskey. I've already paid for them.” He says.

Hux smirks inwardly. _Idiot._ Hux might not be a pub regular, but at least he knows better than to threaten a bartender. He waits to see which of the nearby thugs will be the one to personally throw this kid out of the bar but, to his surprise, the bartender sets three small shot glasses in front of him and fills each with a shot of whiskey, demanding no payment after he's finished. None of the others at the bar remark on this strange occurrence, either. They don't even seem to realize it happened.

Hux watches incredulously as the boy slams each shot, one by one, wiping the back of his hand across his lips when he's finished. As he sets the last empty shot glass back on the bar, he catches Hux's gaze and freezes in place; the panicked, frenzied look has come back. He averts his eyes quickly. Intrigued, and perhaps keen to the scent of fresh prey, Hux picks up his glass and stands, making his way over to this stranger. _Maybe this is what my father meant by doing stupid things_ , he thinks, distantly, and comes to stand right next to the boy, who refuses to meet his scrutinizing stare, pretending not to notice him at all. Hux throws back his glass's remaining contents and sets it on the counter top.

“Order me another one. The way you did for yours.”

The boy meets his gaze but briefly and looks away again. “Why should I?” He huffs.

“Because you and I both know that we're the only ones that don't belong here,” he says as evenly as he can muster, “and as such, we ought to work together.”

He laughs and looks away. “What could _you_ have to offer _me_?”

Hux narrows his eyes. “What? You don't think you could do it again? Something as easy as ordering a drink?”

The boy looks him up and down, still not quite making eye contact, and must decide the challenge is simple enough, because soon Hux finds himself with another glass of whiskey while this new hypnosis-inducing companion has the same.

“Hmm, almost impressive,” Hux says, clinking their glasses together. “What's your name?”

“Ben,” the boy responds, finally able to look Hux in the face. “And yours?”

“Dopheld,” Hux lies, using the name of another student at the academy, a few years his junior. The real Dopheld is a timid sort who's easy enough to shift blame onto, someone who could almost effortlessly be intimidated into covering up anything that's been done under his name. Perfect for this sort of situation, Hux had decided while he was planning this getaway.

Ben looks at him oddly, but shrugs, sipping the whiskey.

“So what are you doing here?” Hux asks him, taking a seat when the patron to Ben's left gets up to leave, seemingly disgusted to be in the presence of Basic-speakers. Or humans, Hux isn't sure which is more offensive on this planet.

“None of your business,” Ben snaps. He's trying to appear brave. Hux knows this trick all too well. And he suspects he's got a few years on this Ben kid, so it shouldn't be too hard to get the upper hand. Ben doesn't quite look old enough to be on a celebratory graduation trip the way Hux could very well be, if not for the fact that this isn't so much of a celebration as a kind of brief, desperate escape.

“Must be pretty serious,” Hux says, mockingly.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Hux scoffs. The whiskey's loosening him up a bit, relaxing the perpetually-tense muscles in his shoulders, taking the ever-present edge off. He studies the kid, noting the dirt beneath his fingernails, the mismatched features, the unruly curls of hair-- longer than Hux has ever seen on another boy before. “Running away from home, I take it? Can't take the overbearing love of mummy and daddy?”

“Shut up. You don't know anything about me.”

“You're what, seventeen, eighteen?”

“I'm nineteen, jackass,” Ben spits. “And, you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“No, idiot. I mean what are you doing here if not also running away? And from what? I could find out. I can read minds, you know.”

Hux arches an eyebrow and laughs at that, resisting the urge to dare him to try. He hasn't forgotten how the bartender had snapped to attention so easily after one menacing look from this poorly-groomed child, but he's not willing to admit that he's unsettled by that, either. Regardless, it would be a poor choice to play his cards now without having extracted more information first. If on the off chance that he's telling the truth about his mind-reading powers Hux has an awful lot at stake. No, best to lay off. For now.

“I was given a test,” Ben says, changing the subject it seems. He's not looking at Hux anymore, instead keeping his eyes unfocused on his drink. “He... he says it will make me powerful. Strong. My first test. But. I don't know if I can do it.”

“So you came here to, what? Get so drunk you don't have to think about it?” Hux asks, acutely aware of the irony there. Ben doesn't respond. Hux sips his drink. “What kind of test, anyway?” He was always good with tests. Not that he would offer to help this pitiful creature beside him, but maybe if he knows about the test, he could figure it out to become powerful, too.

Ben shakes his head, dark hair falling in front of his eyes. And-- is that a fucking _braid_?

Hux, relaxed by the alcohol, reaches over to grab at it, turning it over in his hand, “What is this?” He laughs, “Are you some kind of Jedi?”

Ben swats his hand away angrily. “The Force is strong in my family. You wouldn't understand.”

“Listen,” Hux says, setting his glass back on the bar. His face feels warm and he knows it's not normal for him to want to be offering up free advice, but his reason is dulled and he finds he rather likes that. “I don't have time in my life for fables and parlor tricks. And I don't know what kind of sort of magical Jedi test you've been given, but suck it up. Life is hard. Be harder.”

“Oh, is that what they teach you where you come from?” Ben spits angrily.

“Precisely. The First Order has no time for weakness. If you balked this much at any one of the tests that my academy posed, you'd have been outcast and executed already.”

“Hmph, you must be so tough, then,” Ben scoffs.

“I graduated top of my class.” He's not ashamed to admit this, nor how hard he worked to make sure it came true. His peers might have laughed behind his back, but then again, they weren't really “peers” were they? More like lesser beings he was forced to interact with.

“And yet you're here,” Ben says, gesturing vaguely to the tavern. “What does that say about you? I could still find out, you know.”

“No thanks. The last thing I need is some half-trained Jedi padawan messing about in my head.” As curious as it has been to speak with someone so disconnected from his own rigid world, it's equally exhausting and he's still wary of these purported abilities, magic tricks or not.

“I was born with great power that comes from a great legacy,” Ben says and Hux can't help but to roll his eyes.

“Then why aren't you off making great use of it?”

“Like you're one to talk, 'top of class'”

Hux sneers and returns to his drink in silence. The alcohol may be loosening up his tongue, but he's not going to sit here to have his words thrown back at him by some feral runaway child. He came here to enjoy his freedom, not to suffer for it.

“No one knows you're here, do they?”

Hux could lie, but the way Ben had said that wasn't a question so much as a statement of fact. An easy enough guess, perhaps, but either way, denying this now would only make him look like he's ashamed to admit it, which he's not, not really. "Of course not. If anyone found out, I'd be hanged,” he concedes. Ben seems to be studying him, waiting for him to say more, so, drunkenly, he continues. “My parents watch over me like a hawk. Not out of affection, mind you, but to make sure I'm not going to fuck up. Not going to embarrass them or besmirch the family name, that sort of thing. They keep me in line at every turn and corner. Graduated last week, the only thing they asked of me was why I didn't graduate earlier. Never quite enough for them. I'm supposed to be training to take command of my father's ship. He expects me to be working my way up through the ranks, already. Just as he did. He would murder me himself if they knew I was off on some wild, uncharted planet getting pissed with some untrained Jedi.”

The edges of his vision are starting to blur now, much like the edges to his words and he's very aware he's talking too much now, but fuck if it doesn't feel good to just _say_ things. To just let the words fall as they come to his mind, no worries about the repercussions-- not now, anyway. Save that for morning. _Saying stupid things_ , indeed.

“Your parents... are famous,” Ben says, again not a question.

Hux sighs and lifts his eyebrows in confirmation. “It's not always as glamorous as it might seem.”

Ben's face takes on a distant, unfocused stare and he nods slowly. A long moment passes before he speaks up. “Mine sent me away. For training. They were always so busy, either with work or with each other, they probably didn't even notice my absence.”

“Must be nice,” Hux says, “to have that kind of freedom, then.”

“Freedom? Is that what you think this is? They sent me away because they never wanted me around. Ashamed of me, maybe. I was too powerful and they sent me away. They sent me to train to be a Jedi master but they didn't even tell me the whole story! Only the parts they wanted me to hear. I didn't have a choice, I've never had a choice! I didn't choose any of this shit.” Ben slurs, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Well,” Hux raises a hand to motion for Ben to calm down as some of the other bar-goers turn to glare. “You've chosen to come here, haven't you?”

“Just the same as you have.”

Hux shrugs, not wanting to acknowledge that he has anything in common with this unkempt, brooding, indecisive Jedi-in-training. He, a young man of high rank and flawless marks. Someone who wasn't born having mystical hand-waiving powers, but someone who had to scrape together what strengths he did have to make something of himself, someone who still had miles ahead to conquer. Not someone who faces one test and panics. That's not what Hux is doing here, not really. He just needed a minute. A minute to get it all together. A night. A night to come apart and recollect before taking on the rest of his life.

But Ben's right, Hux realizes; there is an understanding there. An unspoken mutual recognition of each other's burdens. The same ones, really: too many expectations, too much responsibility unasked for, an absence of the approval they long for, and absolutely no one to confess these truths to.

Hux looks at him. His vision was swirling comfortably in a boozy haze, but now it's razor sharp. Maybe there was something else Hux had come here hoping for. Something he wouldn't even self-admit to wanting until now. Something that didn't have a form until now. _Doing stupid things,_ indeed.

He clears his throat and starts slowly. "I came here wanting just one night for myself that no one would know about. Where I could relax, outside of the judging eye of my parents or anyone else associated with my homeland. One bloody night to unwind and get my head around everything, to step back and see things clearer before going forward. Never had one before, and after I go back, I don't anticipate I'll ever get the chance to do such a thing again.”

"Yes," Ben nods eagerly, "same."

"Well then," Hux pauses. He looks Ben dead in the eye and holds his gaze steady. His heart is slamming in his chest. Hux wants this. No, Hux needs this. This is not how he thought his night was going to go, but he can no longer deny that it's not at least a little bit like the way he would hope it would go, if he had been bold enough to ever let himself hope. He's come this far and is unlikely to ever get this far again. He has to take what he can while he can, no hesitations, no second-guessing. What he wants, he gets. And right now, he wants this. The alcohol has no doubt freed him of some of his inhibitions because there is no way he would be this close to asking what he's about to ask for now. “I think we're both entitled to just one night. To ourselves. Don't you?”

Ben is returning the same pointed stare, lips twitching.

Hux leans forward, smiling. “Let's get out of here,” he whispers.

Ben nods rapidly, knocking back the last of his glass's contents.

Hux grabs Ben by a sleeve and tugs him to a standing position. “Come on.” Ben is wobbly on his feet but follows quickly behind Hux as he walks out the door.

They stumble back out into the planet's perpetual blizzard, thick snow covering any semblance of a road or path.

“Where are we going?” Ben asks.

Hux shrugs, bundling his coat up around him and taking out a lighter and the pack of cigarettes he'd gotten at the space station when he first arrived. Ben declines one when offered and Hux shoves the pack back in his pocket.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as he lights the tip of his cigarette.

“I-- was planning on sleeping in my ship,” Ben replies, flushing.

Hux blows smoke from the corner of his mouth, “Well then I guess it's settled.” He drags deeply on the cigarette again. “Come back with me. I have a hotel room already.”

Ben gapes at him, blinking snowflakes out of his eyelashes.

“You look like you could use the company,” Hux adds quickly when it becomes apparent that Ben doesn't know how to respond to such a bold proposition. “And I don't know about whoever it is that has you doing these mysterious 'tests' or whatever you called them, but I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do.”

Ben opens his mouth, snaps it shut, looks away, then back again. “And if I wanted to do it?”

“Well then,” Hux smiles, teeth bared. “You'd be in luck.”

Ben glances around the snowy landscape before nodding to Hux. Hux tosses the cigarette butt into the snow and inclines his head, turning to walk down a narrow alleyway leading back to his hotel. Ben takes another look around and follows him, not even trying to hide his grin.

–-

They're barely in the room before they're on each other, Hux grabbing Ben by his lotus-thread robe and pulling him forward, Ben's hands clumsily landing on Hux's hips. Their lips press hard against each other and Hux feels his heart pounding in his chest for not the first time this night. He licks at the swell of Ben's lower lip. The booze has perhaps dulled the physical, tactile sensation, but it's fueling Hux to go on coaxing Ben's mouth open to allow his tongue to slide in, tasting whiskey, desperation, and overwhelming gratitude.

They're both breathing hard and heavy when they come apart. It's Hux that looks at Ben first, noticing as the corner of his mouth twitches shyly, as if afraid to upturn completely. Ben hesitantly meets his eyes in return. “So, um.” Ben starts, stops, starts, and stops again.

“No more talking,” Hux says, left hand sliding into Ben's mop of dark hair, fingers tangling in the thick curls as they come to rest on the back of his skull. Ben's hands move to the small of Hux's back, pulling him closer to kiss Hux again.

Hux pushes back so he can shrug off his coat, Ben letting go to allow him to remove it. His shirt comes off next and there's a slight pause while Ben gapes transfixed at Hux's bare chest. Hux doesn't move, inhaling slowly as Ben goes to press his palms flat on his breast, thumbs rolling over Hux's pink nipples. Ben bites his lower lip and Hux places his hands on Ben's elbows, trailing up his arm slowly to tug gently at the sleeves of Ben's robes. Ben looks at him, bright-eyed, and nods.

As Ben divests himself of his robes and tunic, Hux is peeling off his boots and socks. Ben hesitates again at the clanging sound of Hux's belt buckle coming undone, but smiles back when Hux pauses to raise his eyebrows at him questioningly. Reassured, Hux pushes down his trousers and makes his way to the bed in his underwear, already half-hard, his heart racing. Quickly, Ben shoves his own pants down and jumps onto the bed next to Hux who bounces a bit, shifted by the weight of Ben beside him.

It's clear from their clinging, grabbing hands, tangling limbs, and sloppy kisses that this is something new to them, but the sheer novelty of allowing themselves this respite more than makes up for a lack of experience. Never in Hux's life can he think of a time where he's been allowed, much less encouraged, to show true passion for anything that didn't serve a distinct purpose. As a result, all of that pent up energy is coming into bed here, now, as he straddles Ben and ruts against his stomach, his hands cradling the boy's jaw as he kisses him, again and again.

And Ben seems just as wanting, his hands clawing at Hux's back, whimpering into his mouth and writhing beneath him.

“You're such a mess, aren't you?” Hux says between kisses.

“Yes,” Ben rasps, voice more of a whine.

“Unruly hair, tattered clothes, no one to take care of you.”

Ben pulls him forward to breathe into his ear. “And you. You've never been allowed to be a mess, no one to care _for_ you. You need this.”

Hux's eyes squeeze shut. “I do,” He admits, regretting it as soon as the words are past his lips. Maybe Ben won't remember it anyway, maybe he wasn't even listening. He seems to be already busying himself sucking at Hux's neck, his hands in Hux's hair.

“I just needed a break,” Hux says, perhaps trying to defend himself as Ben rolls him onto his side. “To see what I've been denied.”

“And?” Ben asks, working his way down to Hux's tightened nipples, “do you like what you've found?”

“Yes,” Hux breathes when Ben takes a taut nipple between his teeth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, “ _Fuck._ Yes.”

This is exactly what he came here for, fuck it; he can't pretend like he never fantasized about slipping under the radar for a debauched night of smoking and drinking himself into freedom, to alleviate the unreleased frustrations of his daily routine, to shake off the cobwebs by sliding into bed with a stranger who wants him just as much as he wants to be wanted.

Hux's briefs are straining against his erection, a wet spot forming at the front, and he shifts to remove them. Ben pushes his own boxers down and kicks them off the side of the bed. He props himself up on one elbow and runs his free hand down the length of Hux's body, from shoulder to hip, his fingers brushing the curve of Hux's ass.

“Well?” Hux says when Ben just kind of stops there, staring slack-jawed.

Ben looks up at Hux, breathing shallowly but even. He pushes himself up and tosses a leg over Hux's, taking his own dick in hand as he does. “Let me?” He asks, pleading.

Hux bites the inside of his cheek and keeps his eyes locked hard on Ben's. He's not about to let it show that he's nervous; he is, but he wants this, too. “Yes,” he says, and he moves his legs apart, shifting to place one on either side of Ben.

Ben takes in a deep breath as he moves to position himself gracelessly. He puts a hand on Hux's thigh, the other still holding his own cock. Hux lifts his ass, fisting bedsheets in hands and closing his eyes, pulse racing, toes curled.

He feels like maybe he should have prepared himself more for this. Or at all, really. But he convinces himself he's ready as he feels a pressure against his asscrack. Probing fingers, maybe. _'Maybe he'll know what he's doing',_ he thinks. ' _Ha.'_   His mind counters, unhelpfully.

He hears Ben mumbling something or other then feels him withdraw completely. Hux peeks down to find Ben fumbling awkwardly with his dick, which seems to be going soft in his hand. “I--,” Ben stutters, “I'm-- sorry, I just... I. Um. It's not you, I swear, I just... please.

Hux watches a moment as he attempts to revive his hard on, then sighs, rolling his eyes. “You don't know what you're doing, do you?”

Ben looks at him apologetically, chewing on his lower lip again.

“Come here.”

“I'm... I haven't--”

“Come _here_ ,” Hux repeats, slapping the mattress beside him.

Ben does as asked this time and lays alongside Hux, curling around his slender frame. He buries his face in Hux's neck and mutters something that sounds like an apology.

“Shh,” Hux says. “It's just because you're drunk, you idiot.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I mean. I just wanted to--”

“Shh,” Hux says again. “It's fine. Stop babbling.”

“But I wanted to--”

Hux sighs, exasperated. “Maybe in the morning."

“But,” Ben is licking at Hux's jaw, grinding his hips against Hux's. “Please.” Hux laughs a bit, amusement overcoming his mild annoyance. ' _Desperate.'_

“Yes,” Ben says, and Hux can feel Ben's dick starting to twitch again as it presses against his thigh. Hux reaches down to take it in hand. Ben gasps and Hux leans in to kiss him again.

Ben writhes in Hux's hand and whimpers into his mouth while Hux's fingers slide along his foreskin. “Ah--” he stammers, grabbing Hux's bicep and arching into the tight fist. He's hard again now, but Hux doesn't stop, jerking Ben off with a firm grip that tightens on the upstroke, stroking faster and faster until he has Ben coming over his fingers, spilling on both of them and sputtering nonsense syllables as he does, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck,” he says, reopening his eyes and staring at the mess he's made. Hux grins at him, pleased with himself. He takes his cum-smeared hand and runs it along Ben's torso. Ben watches breathlessly as he does this, lips parted slightly, pupils fat and wide. Looking wrecked like this, Hux wants to kiss him again.

Ben smiles lazily. “Ew.”

Hux smiles and Ben leans forward to peck him on the corner of his mouth. Gently, Ben pushes Hux onto his back and Hux allows it. “Here,” Ben says, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Hux watches as he swallows and dips down to place his wet mouth on Hux's cock. He licks down the underside of the shaft and back up along a thick vein to the head.

“Oh. _Fuck_ , Ben.” Hux whispers, his eyes rolling backwards under their lids. It's uncoordinated and clearly lacking in technique, but Ben is eager to please, making small appreciative noises as he takes the tip into his mouth, wet and warm, suckling on it and tonguing the slit.

Hux hisses when Ben's teeth drag along his shaft, but Ben is a quick learner and corrects himself swiftly, putting his plush lips to good use as as he works up the courage to take Hux deeper.

Hux groans, his back arching. He reaches one hand down into Ben's hair, the other going into his own, tugging at it as Ben sucks him off hungrily.

Ben's over-large hands are pressing against Hux's thighs, keeping them splayed while Hux wants nothing more than to trap Ben's head between his legs and keep him there, just like this, all night. As it is, he's not going to last much longer. He should be embarrassed, ashamed of himself, he thinks distantly, but he's fucking not. Sloppy though it is, with Ben drooling and gagging and moaning around him, this feels better than Hux could have imagined and he's soon coming down Ben's throat, crying out as he does.

Ben seems surprised, puling off quickly, gasping and sputtering, his reddened mouth painted in cum. He touches his hand to his lips and smiles, then looks up brightly at Hux who's panting heavily, one arm tossed over his flushed forehead. Ben raises a hand to wipe his chin, smiling.

“No--,” Hux says, “don't.”

He reaches down to Ben's jaw, himself sitting up, and he brings their lips together again, relishing how filthy this feels just now. Something from the only dirty holovid he ever seen, one that had gotten him into so much trouble when it had been found in his possession as a teenager. He tastes himself in Ben's mouth and the boy is still vocalizing his appreciation into Hux, crawling forward to have a knee on either side of him, hands flying to wrap around Hux's bony shoulders.

Ben pulls back, licking his lips. “That was the first time I've ever done that,” he says without shame, in fact he just sounds proud of having done it all all.

“Oh, really?” Hux says sarcastically. “I hadn't noticed.”

“What? You've done this before?” Ben asks. Hux can sense the damper on his cheer now and somehow it makes him smile inwardly, as if this somehow gives him the upper hand.

He shrugs. “Of course I have.”

Ben studies his eyes carefully. “You're lying,” he says, his lips curving upwards into a toothy smile again which he presses against Hux's jaw. “I was your first, too. Just now.”

Hux scowls at the truth of it, having lost his perceived advantage. He shrugs again. “How would you know?”

“I told you. I can read minds.”

Hux pushes him off, now not only annoyed at having been called out, but mildly terrified at the idea that Ben might know more. “I thought I told you to stay out of mine.” Ben seems oddly surprised at Hux's vexation. He's giving him a guilty look, grinding his teeth together. Hux's stomach churns. “What else have you read, Ben? What else do you know?”

“Hux...”

The sound of his name freezes his blood. He recoils.

Ben looks distressed as Hux pulls away. “I-- I read it off of you, yes. I knew you were lying to me at the bar and I didn't know why.”

“Shit,” Hux swears. _Doing stupid things._

“I get it now, knowing where you're from, and it's not that I meant to scare you, I just-- I wanted to know your name. You were the first--”

“You absolutely cannot tell anyone I've been here,” Hux says, deadly serious.

“I wouldn't,” Ben says, sounding accused, as if he's the one who stands to lose it all should this scandal get out. “I won't. I promise.”

Hux lies very still, quietly processing. He's not sure he can trust this kid, and murder was definitely not in the plans for tonight but, truth be told, he probably couldn't bring himself to do that anyway.

“Hux, please,” Ben says, taking Hux's face in his hands. And for what? Probably helping himself to another casual mind-read?  _Great._ If it came down to a physical fight, Hux knows he wouldn't stand a chance. “I'm sorry. I won't say a word. To anyone. Don't make me leave. Please. I'll stay out of your head, I swear it.”

His voice sounds so desperate, so cracked and pleading, his eyes watery, Hux couldn't possibly. What good would it do at this point, anyway? Hux's secrets are out and he didn't even have to say them. It's almost a relief. Almost. He'll worry about it tomorrow. He relaxes slightly and lies back, allowing Ben to curl around him again. Some of the drunken haze is wearing off, being replaced by a satiated sort of calm that Hux is unfamiliar with. He's tired, just wants to sleep, and Ben doesn't seem to mind now that he's been granted this silent permission to stay. He lies quietly with Hux still cradled in his arms, watching as Hux's eyelids take longer and longer to reopen after blinks.

“Hey, Hux,” Ben murmurs into Hux's neck.

“Hmm?” Hux hums sleepily.

“What if we just didn't go back?”

Hux half-opens one eyelid to peer over at him. “Hmm?”

“I don't want to be a Jedi anymore. I don't belong amongst them, and I can't go back to my parents. They wouldn't want me to anyway.”

“Mm, what about your 'great legacy' or whatever you called it?” Hux mumbles through a yawn. “You can't give up without having tried.”

Ben sighs.

“I'm sure you'll do fine.”

“But--”

“Mmm, go to sleep, Ben.”

As the last grip on consciousness slips from his mind, Hux feels Ben's legs wrapping around his lower body, his arms hugging him tightly. He gives a shuddering exhale and Hux is fast asleep.

\--


	2. Light or dark, fantastic passion

==

_They don't want you to become strong because they are afraid they won't be able to control you. They don't want you to know the strength of your own powers. I know how strong you can be. I have foreseen it. Strength unrivaled. Strong enough to have whatever you desire. Strong enough to have the galaxy bend to your will. Luke can't give you that._

The voice that has spoken to Ben is whispering into his dreams again. He wakes with only the vague sensation that it had been there, hazy images of dreams already dissipating as his brain comes back to the waking world.

The first thing he is aware of when he fully awakens is that his head hurts. He's fairly sure it'll hurt a lot worse when he opens his eyes, so he leaves them shut for now. Secondly, he needs to pee. Unfortunately that will mean getting up, which will require opening his eyes soon after all. He stretches out his aching limbs, the throbbing in his head amplified by every movement. Worst of all is the pressure in his sinuses. He brings his fingers to massage the bridge of his nose, pinching the corners of his eyes. Their lids feel thick and ten times heavier than normal and he's still wary to open them. He opens his mouth instead, which is dry and sticky and tastes... suddenly, he remembers where he is and his eyes fly open.

It's too bright. And he's naked beneath these sheets he's tangled in. The other boy. Hux. He's here somewhere, maybe. Unless he's left already and Ben is alone here. Ben suppresses the urge to panic, instead letting his Force-consciousness scan the room. Okay, good, Hux is still here, asleep behind him in bed. All he'd have to is turn over to wrap his arms around him again. The relief settles deep into his bones and he relaxes. Hux is still here. And Hux had let him stay.

He buries his face in the mattress and smiles, despite the pounding in his head. Last night was the first time he'd ever done something like that, something so close with another person. He'd long wondered what it would be like, long denied himself the chance to try, but now he knows. Something about it has his chest feeling at once light and buzzing. He's not just smiling; he's beaming. When was the last time he smiled like this?

He knows this feeling won't last, this brief interlude of peace, the calm before the shitstorm that he's going to have to go back to face. The alcohol last night had quieted the kind of duel-track thought streams constantly running through his mind, but with the intoxication now worn off, reality is sinking into him double. Unquestionably, this sort of thing is forbidden among Jedi. And perhaps he might not be on that path for much longer, but the alternative will hardly be any more accommodating to personal affairs. Certainly Master Snoke wouldn't allow such behavior. He's already made it clear that Ben is to serve no one but him, no peripheral interests will be allowed, and surely someone like Hux and whatever _this_ was counts as one of those. That nervous feeling is coming back, swallowing his stomach. He remembers his head still hurts and he still needs to pee. It's going to be a rough day, he already knows.

Deciding that getting out of bed will hardly be the most difficult challenge facing him today, Ben rolls to the edge of the bed and swings his legs over the edge, standing and stumbling into the bathroom. He relieves himself and washes his hands, splashing his face with cold water and rubbing his sore eyes. He realizes he doesn't have a toothbrush so he rinses his mouth with water and spits it back into the sink, shutting off the tap.

Walking back into the bedroom, he looks around for the first time. The room is sparsely furnished, having little more in it than the old, worn double bed where Hux is still asleep and a small nightstand with a lamp and two drawers. Absurdly, there's a ceiling fan, but it doesn't seem to have been used anytime recently, and Ben can't imagine this planet ever being warm enough to warrant using it at all. The curtains are mostly drawn but there's just enough window exposed that Ben can see the relentless winter storm swirling snow outside. It's too bright out there and the white of the snow is all the more blinding. He brings his attention back inside the room and sees clothes strewn about randomly. He finds his underwear lying on the floor and pulls it back on, scanning the room for rest of his scattered belongings.

Maybe he should just leave now, he thinks as he picks up his robes, and slip out while Hux is still unconscious. He doesn't want to face him in the revealing light of dawn, anyway, afraid of what Hux might say. Perhaps, sober, Hux might see Ben for who he really is and regret bringing him here at all. What if he's still upset for the mind-reading Ben had done without permission? What if he's afraid of Ben's powers? Someone had told him something like that earlier, had they not? Who was that? When was that? Would Hux even be remiss in such a fear, given that Ben can hardly control himself sometimes after all? Wouldn't Hux, and everyone else, be right in fearing his powers? He needs more training, that's for sure. And Hux can't give him that. _Luke can't, either._ Where had that suggestion come from?

Ben shakes his throbbing head and looks over at Hux, curled in on himself, looking so small in the bed alone, scowling even while asleep. His pale, freckled shoulders rise and fall as he breathes, red hair looking bed-wrecked and unkempt. Just a boy, Ben thinks, not Force-sensitive, not powerful, not even particularly insightful. Simple. Shouldn't be anything noteworthy or special. But.

As he's standing there, indecisive as ever, Hux shivers under the thin blanket. Ben knows he should leave, but how can he? How can he when all that awaits him is a test he's not sure if he can face or the knowledge that all of his powers will go to waste following the talent-squandering ways of the Jedi? How can he when here, now, is the only person that has ever understood, in some distant way, what it's like to bear a calling unasked for, and that precarious balance between seeking power and losing valuable other things in the process? And how can he when here, now, is this person who could find him useful? This boy who asked him to come back with him here. Who didn't send him away. Ben can't remember the last time he'd felt actually wanted, and not like an awkward inconvenience that someone else was obliged to take care of. Drunk or not, Hux had wanted Ben around him last night.

Remembering this, Ben wants to slip into the bed again to snuggle back up against Hux's sleeping form; wants to seeking refuge in burying his aching head into the crook of Hux's neck as if it were a spot made for just such a purpose, himself becoming the blanket that Hux seems to need. Ben drops his robes again and takes small steps towards the bed. At its edge, he bends, putting his palms out onto the mattress.

The mattress bows and Hux sighs and stretches a bit, waking. Ben watches as Hux's eyelids flutter open lazily. He sees Ben and looks surprised for a second, then rolls onto his back and squeezes his eyes shut again. He's not smiling. He's lying there, grimacing. Ben feels awkward. Out of place. Like he shouldn't be here.

“You're still here,” Hux says, voice gruff and sleepy.

“Oh,” Ben swallows and steps back quickly. He should have left. What can he say? What can he do? “Sorry. Um. Did you want me to go?” He should have left. He shouldn't have been here at all.

Hux's brow knits. “It's fine.” He mumbles after a pause, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Ben releases the breath he's been holding and feels lighter. “Aren't you cold, standing there like that?” Hux asks, turning his head to squint at him with one eye.

“Um, yeah, kind of,” Ben admits, fidgeting awkwardly. “It's cold here.”

“Well, then what are you still doing there?”

The corners of Ben's mouth quirk upwards tentatively. He approaches the bed slowly and slides under the covers, still keeping some distance from Hux, who's again facing the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“This mattress is too hard.” Hux says, “And this blanket is too thin.”

Ben blinks at him, trying to parse his complaints without having to resort to mind-reading, but he finds himself wanting to take Hux in his arms again to give him both the softness and the warmth he seems to be lacking, so, he does. Hux only grumbles a little bit before resting his cheek against Ben's chest and sighing.

Ben smiles a bit as something swells in his chest. Comfort, maybe that's what this is. He's comfortable. It's something he hasn't felt in a long time, certainly not since leaving for Jedi training, and even before that... those nervous looks he would see his parents swap when he'd come home eager to tell them about some new trick he'd performed using the Force. Not understanding why they weren't happy for him. _They are afraid of your power_. But here resting against him now is someone who'd not only seen his power, but encouraged it. Wasn't that what had happened at the bar last night, when Hux asked Ben to coerce the bartender into giving them free drinks? And Hux had later invited Ben back to this room with him, had grabbed him and kissed him, all that passion and adrenaline that they'd both had to suppress for so long coming out to meet its match in the other. There was no fear there. And even when Hux had learned that Ben had been snooping around in his mind, he was angry, afraid, but that fear was of possible repercussions, not of Ben. If he'd been afraid of Ben, he wouldn't have allowed Ben to stay. Wouldn't be allowing Ben to hold him in his arms now.

Ben swallows, wondering if this really is his last chance to have anything of this sort again. He wants to hold onto these last remaining scraps of innocence while he still has them, knowing that there will be no coming back once he's done what Master Snoke has tasked for him. He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't mean to, but it's too late, he already is and the anxiety is churning his stomach. To sever the ties to the light side of the Force, to prevent the Jedi from rising to stop him, he will have to kill them before they catch on to his plans. All of them. For some of them, that might not be too difficult. Those ones who mock him, who tease him about his looks, his lumbering gait, his awkward demeanor, his inability to control his temper. This isn't about that, not really, but Master Snoke has encouraged Ben to hone in on that anger for these other students, let the rage fuel his actions, his hatred making him strong, building the defenses he will need to protect himself against the pity he may feel. There are others, though, that perhaps do not deserve this kind of fate. Master Snoke tells him not to worry, they are nevertheless beneath him, but. He can't help it. Not yet, anyway.

“Hey, Hux.”

“Hmm?” Hux sounds irritated at being spoken to so early in the morning, but Ben doesn't let that deter him.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What the fuck, Ben.” Hux mumbles into his skin.

“Just wondering if that was something that ever happened at your Academy. There are rumors, you know.”

Hux rolls over onto his back, his eyes still shut tight to keep the light out. “I'm not going to dignify that with a response.”

“Would you, though?” Ben asks after a long moment has passed. “If it were asked of you?”

Hux makes an annoyed grunt and finally peeks his sleepy eyes open at Ben. “If my commanding officer demanded it of me, yes, of course I would.”

“Okay, now what if you had a choice?”

Hux shakes his head. He finds hypothetical questions tiresome. “Depends what I got out of it, and what I'd stand to lose. Now, for fuck's sake, why are you asking?”

“I just wanted to know what you would do.”

“Well, it's a weird thing to ask.”

Ben shrugs. “It's about the Force, you wouldn't understand anyway.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Forgive my ignorance,” he sneers. “And congratulations. I've been awake less than five minutes and I'm already annoyed. That must be some kind of new record, so well done. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower.”

Hux pushes himself away and Ben watches as he gets up slowly, rubbing his temple and sauntering off into the bathroom.

Ben bites in the inside of his cheek. He hadn't meant that as an insult. It was just the truth. It's not his fault Hux doesn't want to see that. Still, he regrets that Hux feels offended. He rolls over as he hears the shower start running. Maybe he's just fucked everything up all over again. Typical. But what does Hux know, anyway? About anything? He doesn't have to make these kinds of choices. He listens to what people tell him and he goes from there. Hux follows orders. No Academy-trained top student can help Ben with this. He pulls the blanket up over his head and curls in on himself, willing this incessant headache to dissipate.

It's not long before he falls asleep again, into another dream. A nightmare, more like. He's outside, in the snow. It looks like this planet, but something is telling him it's not the same. There are trees here, tall ones, and Ben can't remember seeing any trees last night. These trees are threatening to fall on him and he has to vigilantly dodge them as the ground quakes beneath him, but something more important is demanding his attention. There's something he needs here, desperately. Something crucial, and if he doesn't get it, he's going to die. But he can't quite figure out what it is, and there's not enough time. Someone is after him; he's been misled, tricked. He's failed, somehow. Everything is wrong but he doesn't know why. His side aches. He puts his hand to it and when he pulls it away, it's covered in blood. He needs medical attention. He needs to get off this planet. But even if he does, without this Thing-Which-He-Needs, he's as good as dead anyway. And somehow, all of this is his fault. He sinks back into the snow, fighting with everything he has just to stay conscious. He tries to sit up, but the pain is excruciating. Frantically, he looks around and the last thing he sees before his vision goes dark is three figures running towards him: a scowling red-haired man, flanked on either side by stormtroopers. This man. It's...

“Hux!” Ben wakes up suddenly, cold sweat drenching his body. He sits up and grabs at his side. It's not hurting now, and it's not bleeding. He runs his hands down the rest of his body. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. He looks out the window. This isn't the right planet, anyway. There are no trees here. That dream felt too real. Real enough that he felt cold, he felt injured, he felt panicked. The last one was strong enough that it lingers now, settling tightly in his gut, twisting with unease. Is Hux still here? He hears the sink running. Yes. Hux is still here. He's brushing his teeth. Ben was probably only asleep for a matter of minutes.

A small amount of relief washes over him and he climbs out of bed, not wanting to stay so close to where that dream was, and wanting to be nearer to Hux, Hux who was coming to save him in that dream. Hux with his stable, confident energy-- everything Ben lacks. Everything Ben needs right now. Deep breath. Act normal. Ha. Pretend you know what that means. Relax.

Ben pushes the bathroom door open and finds Hux brushing his teeth, his wet hair neatly combed and a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. The mirror is steamed, but it evaporates instantly when Ben waives a hand at it. Hux arches an eyebrow. “More Force witchery, I presume?” He says around his toothbrush.

Ben had intended on offering something of an apology when he came in here, but now he's ticked off anew by Hux's flippant attitude towards the Force. He keeps his mouth shut and walks around to the other side of him, Hux's glare following his reflection in the mirror. “You have no concept of privacy, do you?” Hux asks, muffled by clear enough.

Ben stares at him. “Can I borrow that when you're done?”

Hux turns to look at Ben, the real Ben, not his reflection. He's still glaring. “This?” He asks, incredulous, mouth full of foam, as he indicates his toothbrush.

“Yeah. I didn't bring one.”

Hux gapes at him. As if he doesn't believe what Ben is asking him for. Ben furrows his brow right back, not sure why Hux is so confused, or angry.

“That's disgusting. Absolutely not.” He says definitively, and turns back to face his own reflection as he continues scrubbing his teeth.

Ben makes an exasperated sigh. “We already,” he pauses splaying his hand, “well,” he shrugs, “you know.”

Hux is scowling at him in the mirror again, daring him to say more.

Challenge accepted, _asshole_. “You've already had my tongue in your mouth,” he sneers. “And I had your dick in mine. How is this any different?”

Hux turns bright red. He spits into the sink, rinses his mouth with running water, shuts off the tap, and points the toothbrush right in Ben's face. “No.”

Ben huffs and Force-grabs the toothpaste. He squeezes a bit on his fingertip and sticks it in his mouth, glaring at Hux petulantly as he does, rubbing furiously at his teeth.

Hux's glare melts into more of a disbelieving gape. “Really, what is wrong with you?”

He says it with more amusement than anything else, and Ben senses he's trying rather hard to hold back a smile. He seems to have some practice with that.

Ben laughs, taking his finger out of his mouth and grabbing him by the jaw. He pulls Hux towards him and kisses the corner of his mouth, which Hux only half-fights. Hux's brow is still furrowed when he pulls back, but he's radiating a curious, cautious sort of affection more than real annoyance.

Ben releases him and runs his hands under the cold water, bringing some to his lips to rinse his mouth. “I had a dream about you. Just now while you were in the shower.”

“Some sort of perverted thing, I assume?” Hux says, suspicious.

“No, stupid,” Ben shakes his head. “I was on a planet, just like this one, snowy and cold. At first I thought it was this planet, but there were tall trees everywhere. Something bad was happening, though. I don't know what it was, what had happened, but I was injured. Gravely. Lying in the snow. And... you were coming to save me.”

“How nice of me.”

“I... don't think you wanted to. You were doing it because you were under orders to.”

“And who would order me to do that?”

Ben shrugs and Hux stares hard at him.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hux asks.

Ben shrugs again. “I just thought you should know. It felt so real.”

“Well. If this is supposed to be some kind of grand metaphor, it's a poor one. And if you're using it to try to get me to run away with you, it's not going to work.”

Ben scowls at him as Hux walks back into the bedroom, shaking his head and wiping the smeared toothpaste off of his cheek.

Ben turns to scowl at his reflection instead. At the acne that's been flaring up again, at the dark circles that seem permanently painted under his eyes, at the patchy bits of facial hair growing in unevenly, at the braid that hangs longer than the rest of his hair, tickling the skin of his shoulder. He raises his upper lip at himself, hating everything he sees. Hating that he even entertained the idea of asking Hux to run away with him, hating that Hux rejected the idea before he could even form it into a suggestion. Of course Hux wouldn't want to stay with him. No one ever does.

Ben grips the counter as his brain spirals into overthinking. Again. _Fuck._ He doesn't want to go back. Not back to his parents who don't want him around anyway. Not back to Luke who only reprimands his attempts to strengthen his powers, and definitely not back to the Jedi temple where he feels alienated by his own talent, where he feels he's been stuck simply because everywhere else has rejected him, where the other students ignore and avoid him, passing whispered gossip behind his back that he has to pretend not to hear.

But Ben is stronger than all of them already, as Master Snoke has reassured him. Master Snoke is the only one who really knows Ben's true potential. Ben is the perfect material that Snoke will mold into the perfect tool. The tool that the galaxy needs to restabilize and come back under the peace and order missing since Darth Vader had lent his skills to the Empire. This is what Master Snoke has told him. Ben can do that for the galaxy. He can be useful. Necessary, even.

Master Snoke had also been the one to tell Ben about his grandfather's legacy, filling in the gaps his parents had tried to hide from him. He'd told Ben how close Darth Vader had come to unifying all the systems in the galaxy with the power of the dark side, and Master Snoke has foreseen Ben not just carrying on his grandfather's legacy, but surpassing it. Becoming even stronger. While his mother is tiring away, signing meaningless treaties and struggling to forge toothless alliances, Ben will have the dark side at his command, so powerful that no one can oppose him. And why would they? The galaxy will bow to Ben's powers and thank him for restoring the stability needed to progress.

All that stands in the way now is but one simple test, designed to cut Ben's ties to the light side of the Force, to the family that had only lied to him his entire life, afraid of the true power Ben could wield if only he knew how strong he could become with command of the dark side. The side that doesn't tell him to “calm down” or to “let it go”, but lets him have his untamed outbursts and calls it _strength, power_. Why is Ben so afraid of it, then? Why can't he shake this weakness and embrace what he was born to become?

He lets his fury consume him. In one swoop, he flings the small bottles of shampoos and soaps off the counter, sending them all crashing to the floor. He yanks hard on the shower curtain and the rod flies off the wall. He wants to punch out the mirror. Can't look at himself like this anymore. He fights this urge by gripping the counter until his knuckles turn white.

“What are yo--” Hux barges back into the bathroom and sees Ben with a death grip on the counter. “Ben?” He leans forward, peering into Ben's face with his seemingly trademark mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Hux,” Ben looks up quickly, breathing heavily. “I don't want to go back.”

“And so you throw a tantrum in the bathroom over it?”

“I can't. I can't.”

Hux's expression hardens, upper lip curling. “Well get over it, because you have to.”

“No. No.” Ben shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes again. His vision is narrowing, his breathing quickening. Can't focus, can't focus.

Suddenly, his head is jerked to one side by Hux yanking on his braid. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get it the fuck together.”

Ben feels the salt stinging his eyes already, tears threatening to fall, but he looks up at Hux through watery vision, trying to steady the shake in his lips. Hux swallows.

“Why don't you go and lie back down?” It's not so much a suggestion as a soft command, one that Ben doesn't mind following right now, annoyed though he is at how much like his mother Hux sounds when he says it.

He nods and allows Hux to lead him back to the bed, where lies on his back, staring up at the stupid ceiling fan and willing himself not to think about that stupid dream or how stupid this entire situation is.

Hux stands at the edge of the bed, still only wearing that towel, his arms folded across his chest. He's uncomfortable. Doesn't know what to say, what to do. Doesn't even begin to understand what is going through Ben's mind, nor the emotional outburst in response to it. Ben doesn't blame him. He exhausts even himself with these violent mood swings.

“If you have a problem, voice it,” Hux says. “Or do you still find me too thick to comprehend the mysterious ways of the Jedi?”

“I didn't mean to insult you, I was just stating a fact.”

He can hear Hux grind his teeth in annoyance. Great, he's done it again. “Sorry,” he says, turning to reach for Hux, but then thinking twice and letting his arm fall limply on the bed. Hux looks down at him and Ben feels burnt by the gaze. He quickly draws his arm back and rolls away. He curls in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest, feeling his eyes burning with tears yet again. Stupid. He should be stronger than this by now. More composed. He's not a child, shouldn't be so easily hurt. He turns his face into the mattress to hide his eyes as they threaten to water. “I ruin everything,” he mumbles.

“Well, you've certainly ruined the bathroom.”

Ben sniffs, his body quivering.

“What?” Hux scoffs, “you're just going to lie there and cry about it?”

Ben feels Hux sneering at him and does his best to remain motionless.

“Ben,” Hux says after a moment, something like resignation hidden his tone. “My head hurts too much for this.” He sighs as he sits down on the bed. “I don't know your situation and you don't seem to keen to enlighten me, so I can't really give you the advice you so desperately seem to be asking for.”

Ben huffs. Like he needs advice from Hux. What does he know? He has no respect for the Force and he's probably never let himself experience any real emotions, either.

The mattress shifts as Hux lies down beside him. “Just, so you know,” he says after a moment. “I enjoyed myself last night. That doesn't happen often.”

Ben goes very still. He rolls onto his stomach so he can turn his head to face Hux once he's cleared his eyes of tears. “Don't say things just to be nice.”

Hux looks at him, wrinkling his nose. He slaps a hand lightly on Ben's cheek. “ _Nice_ was never taught at the Academy,” he says. “I wouldn't do anything just to be _nice_.” Hux lets his hand linger and Ben relishes the touch. He scoots closer and when Hux doesn't recoil, he puts his arms around him again.

“I'm sorry I got angry,” Ben mumbles.

“I'm not telling you not to get angry. Anger has its uses. But you need to channel it, harness it, use it for something productive, not tearing up the bathroom for reasons you refuse to explain.”

Ben blinks at him. That wasn't exactly what he was expecting from Hux. He was expecting a reproach, to be chastised for feeling too strongly, to be told 'not to do it again'. He wasn't expecting Hux to recognize that there is value in anger. Ben would have never thought someone so oblivious to the Force could even begin to fathom its more nuanced aspects, but here is the counterpoint to that belief. And this isn't the first time Hux has surprised him with his deeper understanding of things.

Anyone lacking Force-sensitivity was foolish and weak, or so he'd always assumed, yet Hux is certainly not foolish, and he's strong in ways Ben can only wish to one day emulate. It gives him some amount of confidence, of hope, that maybe he wouldn't be too remiss to divulge a bit more. But how much more of himself can he show to Hux before he's turned away?

“The thing about the Force,” he starts, trying to keep it simple enough for a layperson to follow, but resenting that he has to reduce a concept as infinitely complicated as this to something as basic as words in sentences, even for Hux, “is that there's a dark side and a light side, okay?”

He feels Hux looking at him disdainfully, showing little patience for this sort of topic, but still waiting for him to say more. “I feel the call to both sides equally, but I can only answer one.”

Hux stares up at the fan, probably bored with this conversation that he can't relate to. “And I assume there are advantages and disadvantages to each?”

“Exactly. The dark side will make me strong, powerful, able to carry out my destiny.”

“But?”

“But it will mean I sacrifice everything.”

Hux turns to look directly at Ben. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made, Ben. Weaknesses, inefficiencies-- these have to be identified and cut out so you can focus solely on what needs to be done.”

Hux takes him by either side of the face now, his eyes boring hard into Ben's. “If this is your destiny, as you said it was, to become strong and powerful and whatever else, then seize it. What are you waiting for? Let the ends justify the means. I have my own destiny, and I'm going back to chase it. Just as the Empire saved the galaxy from the violence of the Clone Wars, the First Order will bring peace and law once again, and I am destined to lead it to this victory. I don't intend to throw that away just because I got scared once. I'm going to cast myself back into my training to rise to the position that I was born to take.” Hux runs the smooth pad of his thumb along Ben's cheek when he bites his lip. “I suggest you do the same, if you really believe that is your birthright.”

Ben exhales, laughs weakly. “Yeah. Perhaps you're right.”

“I usually am,” Hux smirks. “Top of my class and all that.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Hux is grinning devilishly. Ben glares at him, but senses from Hux that this is more than just a childish taunt; Hux is daring Ben to kiss him. So, Ben does. He surges forward and crashes into Hux's mouth clumsily, his big nose brushing against Hux's. Hux welcomes his tongue into his mouth and Ben feels him smile as he wraps a leg around him.

Ben is quickly getting hard as the fabric from Hux's towel brushes coarsely over his thighs. Hux rolls him over on his back and leans over him, now rutting shamelessly against his stomach as they're kissing. Ben squirms to remove his boxers again, loosening Hux's towel-skirt at the same time.

Hux has his hand in Ben's hair, brushing away dark curls. “Your ears are so big,” he says against Ben's mouth.

“Fuck you,” Ben retorts, and blushes, instantly regretting his choice of words when Hux pulls back to grin down at him. He blushes harder when he feels Hux grab his dick and slide it against the cleft of his ass.

“That can be arranged.”

Ben groans, rolling his hips. Hux sets his hands flat against Ben's chest to stabilize himself as Ben writhes beneath him.

Ben looks up past the darkened lashes of his half-lidded eyes. “Hux, please, can I...” he takes one hand off of Hux's pelvis to grab his dick.

Hux is looking down at him with fat pupils, wet hair clinging to forehead. He nods. “Have you got anything for this?”

Ben's eyebrows knit. “Anything?”

“Oil, slick, something like that?”

“Oh,” Ben says, his realization coming slowly. “No. Do you?”

“No,” Hux frowns. “I don't suspect you know of any Force tricks for this, either.”

Ben is confused. It must be evident on his face because Hux shrugs and says “never mind” before rolling off of him and back onto his side.

Ben can't remember his dick ever aching so much in his life. It's flushed red, curled up against his stomach and dripping.

“Hux, please!” He arches his back up off the mattress as he whines.

“Hush. Just because we can't do _that_ doesn't mean we won't do something else.” He says, scooting against him and wrapping a hand around the one Ben's got on his dick.

“Your mouth?” Ben suggests, hopefully, perhaps a touch desperate.

Hux frowns again. “I just brushed my teeth.”

“So? You can brush them again,” Ben pleads. “I'll let you use my toothbrush.”

Hux makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. He shifts to prop himself up on his elbow. He pauses a moment, considering. “And what would I get out of this?”

Ben writhes as Hux slides his thumb across the slit of his leaking tip. “Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything, really?” Hux intones mock surprise, “well, that was easy. You would make a terrible senator, Ben. Or perhaps you'd fit right in.”

Ben groans, rolling his eyes. Hux had made fun of him last night for being desperate then, too, he remembers, but he can't help it. Doesn't want to. “Negotiating deals isn't exactly part of Jedi training curriculum.”

“Ha,” Hux smirks. “Nor is it something taught at the Academy.”

“Then what do you even learn there?”

Hux moves to reposition himself between Ben's legs, the corner of his mouth raised into a grin. “How to win.”

Hux's eyes flick downward from Ben's face to his cock. He licks his lips and slides mouth over the flushed head of Ben's dick, his hands coming to rest at the jut of Ben's hips. Ben gasps as Hux rolls his tongue. He doesn't know what Hux plans to win exactly, but he's not sure he's adverse to losing if this is the battlefield.

“H--hu--” Ben moans, pinching his eyes shut. “Fuck, feels so. Feels. Good, Hux, it feels so good.”

Hux brings a hand up to the base of Ben's dick, pulling down the foreskin as he sinks down further. This isn't how he was last night; it's agonizingly slow, controlled, deliberate. Last night Ben had read from Hux's mind that he'd never done anything like this with anyone, either, but Hux had seen holovids, and had made his own plans and strategies for in case he ever got the chance to reenact one. Every move of his is a first, but they've all been carefully thought-out beforehand, designed to drive their recipient wild. Hux is good at winning. Ben moans, fighting the urge to buck up into the heat of Hux's throat. And, suddenly, Hux pulls off, breathing heavily.

“W—why'd you stop?” Ben whines, looking down at him.

Hux licks his lips, his mouth red and wet, and crawls forward over Ben, stopping when their erections are aligned. “I want to watch you,” he says as he takes both of their dicks in hand, “while I make you come.”

Ben nods rapidly, lips parted, his eyes almost wet with want. “Okay.” He reaches up and grabs Hux by the jaw, pulling him down to kiss again, moaning when Hux's grip tightens around the length of his wet cock.

Ben reaches down to wrap his own fingers around Hux's as Hux ruts against him, breathing hard. His other hand comes to rest on the small of Hux's back, applying just enough pressure to keep him in place. He thrusts his hips upwards gracelessly to increase the friction between their bodies.

Hux lays himself out over Ben's chest, his free hand tangling in dark hair, his lips mouthing at Ben's jaw, moaning nonsense syllables as he grinds himself along Ben.

“Hu-- Hux, I'm close, I'm--” Ben whimpers. He feels his balls draw up tightly and he's coming before he can even get the words out of his mouth, spurting over their fingers and between their bodies as Hux continues to pump their dicks furiously.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hux swears, his body tensing in Ben's embrace as he reaches his own climax just seconds later. He's panting, gasping, as he spills his own release, going boneless and slack as he rides out the intensity of his orgasm. The hand he'd had on their dicks he slides up through the sticky mess between them, smearing cum up Ben's torso, until he can wrap his fingers over Ben's shoulder and collapse on top of him, his head resting in the crook of Ben's neck. Ben takes Hux's wet hand and brings it to his mouth, sucking in each finger one by one to lick them clean. It doesn't taste great, but he'd seen how this had fascinated Hux last night and, indeed, Hux is again looking up at him with blown pupils, flushed and smiling faintly as he does it. Finished, Ben licks his lips and turns to press his cheek against Hux's head, smiling in return.

Hux pauses there a moment then flops onto his back, panting. His previously neatly-combed hair is a wreck again and he runs his dry hand through it before lazily dropping his arm across Ben's chest. Ben places a hand of his own in Hux's, closing his eyes as he catches his breath. He feels his eyelids growing heavy again and he allows his mind to drift blankly towards a light sleep, sensing Hux doing the same.

It's a long while before either of them move again, but Hux is first, stretching and reaching for his comlink. He's relieved when he powers it on and finds no angry messages waiting for him, but he quickly shuts it back off and sighs. He rolls over and looks out the window on the frozen tundra outside. The wind is still whipping snow in little flurries. It doesn't seem like it ever stops here.

“What are you thinking?” Ben asks, scooting up closer to mold himself around the warmth of Hux's body.

“What, don't feel like reading my mind today?” Hux asks, tone bitter but not biting.

“I could, but I said I wouldn't.”

Hux shakes his head. “Go on, just do it. I'm still too hungover to find the proper words anyway.”

Ben himself is too tired to concentrate properly, so he just skims the surface of Hux's mind. He senses that Hux doesn't exactly _want_ to go back, but he knows he has to. A strong commitment to duty and righteousness drive him towards what he thinks of as his destiny. He doesn't believe there is any other way forward for him. He's too conditioned, too programmed to even think to look for one. Ben gets irrationally angry with this shortsightedness and pulls away slightly. But there's a deeper buried thought, one he's guarding closely. Ben isn't sure if he should go near that one, so he approaches it cautiously, not wanting to pry too harshly, but he's too curious to let it go, especially when he senses it's something to do with himself. Concentrating, stripping away Hux's feeble defenses, he zeroes in on the thought. It's not that Hux wants to stay here, it's not that he doesn't want to go back; it's that he wants to take Ben with him, back to the Order. He thinks Ben's powers can help him get ahead, even if he doesn't fully understand them. He thinks he can learn to understand them. He thinks Ben can be useful, both to the Order and to his ultimate aim to lead it.

The idea that Ben could be good at something, useful, perhaps even necessary, like this has his heart swelling. He wants to explore this thought further, but he catches a pained expression on Hux's face and withdraws apologetically. He smiles again, grabbing Hux by either side of his face. “Yes. I'd like that. Let me come with you.”

Hux furrows his brow and shoves Ben away. “Stop. Enough. You know you can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Hux offers by way of explanation.

When Ben just stares at him, waiting, Hux rolls his eyes and continues. “First off, how would I explain you to anyone? No one knows I'm here and no one _can_ know I'm here.”

“But what if this _was_ what my dream was about, Hux?”

“Ben,” Hux sighs, “This was a brief interlude for me, one that I can never have again, and I thank you for playing your part in it. Maybe one day after you've completed your training, you'll consider joining the First Order. But for now, no. You absolutely cannot come with me.”

Ben sighs, feeling deflated anew.

Hux reaches out to touch Ben's cheek, letting his hand linger there only a few brief moments longer before pulling back. “We've both got long journey's back today. Best not to dally.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ben mumbles, not moving.

Hux sits up. “Well, _I_ have to go. You stay here if you'd like.”

“No. Not here. We can both go somewhere, somewhere else.”

“Where, Ben? How? And do what?”

“I... I don't know!”

“Hmm,” Hux frowns. “A compelling argument.”

Hux stands, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around himself again. “And what about your own life and test and great legacy and all that? You're an untrained magician, how could you possibly be useful to the Order or anyone else only half-trained? The Academy doesn't exactly teach its students the ways of the Force.”

Ben turns over and stares blankly at the wall, thinking that it doesn't sound like Hux's Academy teaches anything at all. “If I go back and accept this test, it will begin my training on the ways of the dark side. My power will be far greater than anyone could imagine.”

Hux frowns at him as he's pulling on fresh clothes. “Then that doesn't seem like such a hard choice, now does it?”

“You don't understand. Once I go back, there is no more freedom. My life will be dedicated to this completely and there is no going back.”

“Well, then it doesn't seem that we're that different.” Hux says. “Even if I wanted to keep...” he gestures vaguely, “this. I couldn't. I've got too much to do for the Order, and that comes first. Before anything or anyone. I must see to it that the Order brings the galaxy back under a firm, stable rule, the way the Empire had done before it was destroyed.”

The way the Empire had done. The Empire, with Vader.

Hux sighs and stares out the window for a long moment before speaking again. “I have a legacy of my own that I intend to honor. You can choose to abandon yours, but I've seen what you can do, how you can influence people and get into their heads. If you can do that much, untrained, then imagine what you could do with more guidance. You could do anything you wanted.”

Ben lets the words sink into him, and in his eyes something wild reignites. He sits up. “I could rule the galaxy.”

Hux grins, his eyes narrowing. “Not if I do it first.”

Laughing a bit, Ben looks down at his feet. Hux bends to pick up Ben's robes from the discarded pile on the floor and offers them.

“Thank you, anyway,” Ben says, taking the robs from Hux's outstretched hand.

“For what?”

“For this, for last night.”

“It's not like I was doing you some great favor,” he scoffs. “But by all means, feel free to repay me.”

Ben shrugs, standing. Hux turns as Ben redresses.

Hux's hand is on the door knob and Ben can tell he's less than impressed by this planet's old technology. “Let's go?”

Ben nods and takes two large strides to close the gap between Hux and himself. When Hux opens the door Ben pushes it back shut. Hux is sneering at him but Ben isn't going to let that cow him. He's already seen behind the mask that Hux wears anyway. Ignoring the scowl, he brings his hands to cup Hux's face, pulling him in for one last kiss, which easily turns into one more. Hux shuts his eyes and pauses when Ben draws back. Maybe he feels Ben watching him because his eyes snap open and he nods curtly, turning and wrenching the door open without another word. He marches out, all confidence in his stride, and drops the keys at the reception desk as Ben trails awkwardly behind.

Outside with the cold wind whipping snow around them, they stand in silence. Hux lights up another cigarette before tossing the carton and lighter away. His ears and nose are already pink from the cold.

Ben swallows, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them warm. “Do you think we'll ever see each other again?”

Hux blows smoke out the corner of his mouth. “You'll see me again, mark my words.” He nods, flicking his cigarette. “You won't be able to _not_ see me. I'll be a very powerful man,” he says, eyes gleaming.

Ben wrinkles his nose and stares at him.

“Perhaps you'll be one, too.” Hux says, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

Ben smiles, closing one eye. “Well, for your sake, let's hope we're on the same side.”

Hux scoffs and Ben looks down at his feet, still smiling.

“So long, Ben,” Hux says, taking a drag and marching off towards the shuttle terminal. Ben watches as he heads off, something in him feeling at once full and hollowed already.

As Ben sets the coordinates back for the planet where Luke is training the new ranks to Jedi, he takes once last look at the harsh surface of this Outer Rim rock and its blindingly bright, white snow. Lifeless, or at least it should be, if not for the few who've managed to deal with the unforgiving climate. There are no trees here. That was just a dream, after all. He sets the coordinates and prepares to blast off into the darkness of space before him.

Once he's reached normal cruising altitude and velocity, he reaches under the pilot seat for his lightsaber, the new one he's made himself, hidden from Luke's watchful eye. He powers it on, cracked kyber crystals blazing red and humming with energy. _Power_. His hand is steady as he takes his braid in the fingers of his left hand and and holds it out at an angle. With his other hand he raises the saber, feeling the heat flickering strong against his cheek. He pulls the braid taut as he slices the saber clean through it.

His path is set. His fate is sealed. All that's left for him now is to pilot his ship onward, in pursuit of his destiny.

 

\--


	3. Darkest before dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... _Bloodlines_ came out and suddenly lol, Jossed! After much paralyzed internal debating, I've decided to largely ignore this new “canon” and forge blindly onwards lmao.
> 
> FWIW, this chapter gets a bit darker. Not like, horrific, but some would probably consider parts "undertagged", especially considering earlier chapters. (see end notes if you're that concerned?)  
> Maybe this story is getting away from me. who didn't see that one coming!

===

Hux still thinks about it sometimes. Particularly on the cold mornings when he wakes too early and makes his rounds on Starkiller, pausing long enough on the outside deck to let his mind drift as he takes in the view: the frigid, unforgiving terrain, the white that clings to the tallest trees. It's been on his mind more often lately in light of recently uncovered information. That's all, he tells himself.

_I had a dream about you._

A gust of wind blows across the open deck. He doesn't move to bundle his coat around him closer. He lets the cold air penetrate the fabric, his skin, sink deep into his bones. His only response is an inward grimace.

_I was on a planet, just like this one, snowy and cold ... but there were tall trees everywhere._

He supposes it's stupid, foolish, _weak_ to be thinking about it. It's not like this planet wasn't already perfect for everything Hux had in mind when he was engineering Starkiller Base. Maybe there had been some nostalgia stirred up once the final choice was picked, but it had been chosen first and foremost because for all intents and purposes, this was the perfect planet to play host to such a magnificent superweapon. It made no difference what had happened on some secret backwater rock light years away from here or these words that keep echoing in his head, years later, when he looks out at the snowy expanse before him.

_You were coming to save me._

Hux blinks rapidly as if to dispel these memories, refocusing on something closer. He couldn't have saved him, even if he'd wanted to. What could he have done? How could he have known? He wasn't the one with mystical Force-powers. And he wasn't the one who had gotten Ben into whatever Ben had gotten himself into anyway. Foolhardy boy. Besides, Hux has been occupied with more important things. Should be occupying himself now with more important things, not words and dreams spoken by some young Jedi apprentice who somehow got himself murdered.

It's just that...

Hux had always figured there would be another one. Someone else to capture his interest just as quickly as Ben had. Ben had done so easily enough, as ridiculous as he had looked and sounded, as bizarrely as he had acted. Surely Hux could have found someone born of the Order, someone with influence and power to offer. But, he hadn't. There was never anyone else quite like Ben, so open and candid.

Quick trysts were easy enough, particularly once Hux had learned the power of bribery and blackmail, but not a single individual had ever left any imprint on him. He would struggle to remember the names of anyone else, if he cared enough to try. Inconsequential. With anyone since that first time, he'd been guarded and shuttered, unwilling to open up, lest a weakness be revealed. But Ben hadn't been after Hux to expose his shortcomings, nor to elevate his own status. Ben had just wanted... him.

And for whatever reason Hux had gotten stuck on that Ben kid, a thousand lightyears away, a different lifetime ago. It had never done anything for him, Ben didn't help him rise to the top of the First Order, Ben couldn't have designed this superweapon. And, surely, Ben was no one who would have impressed Hux's father, either. No one important, no one influential.

Ben. A common name for a common person, someone who just so happened to wield magical powers. It's pointless to continue to dwell on this. With his promotion to General now imminent-- tonight, in fact, is the official ceremony-- he can no longer risk such encounters. The new day is beginning on Starkiller Base and there is much to be done.

Hux takes in a deep breath, refocusing his mind as his fingers flex in their skin-tight gloves, and he heads off towards the day's tasks.

 

Striding through the hall towards the command center, he passes Kylo Ren and feels the bile rising in his throat even before Ren even speaks.

“Colonel Hux.”

Hux stops, takes a steadying breath before turning to face the masked man. “Ren.”

“I thought you would be pleased to hear the repairs in sector V-37 are proceeding as scheduled.”

Hux glowers at him. “The repairs for the lightsaber damage you inflicted?”

“The very ones.”

Aside from Ben, Kylo Ren is only other Force-wielder Hux has ever encountered, but there must be something about that wretched energy field that causes its users to become unhinged, susceptible to outbursts and tantrums, he supposes, for he played witness to unchecked tempers and wild mood swings from both that had ended in property damage and more work for him to do.

Hux continues to scowl, fighting the twitch of his eyelid. “Noted.”

That's about where the similarities between the two end, though, Hux has come to understand. While Ben had had something earnest and wanting in him that drew Hux to him, there is nothing desirable or even remotely likable about Kylo Ren.

-

“ _Tell me, Kylo Ren,”_ Hux had asked the other night, boldness amplified by a second glass of whiskey earlier in the evening. “There can't be many Force-users left in the galaxy. I assume you all generally know each other, correct?”

“That is correct, on both accounts.”

Snoke had assigned the masked knight to work alongside Hux on Starkiller a few weeks ago, only moments after announcing his intention to promote Hux to General. Any pride Hux would have taken at this promotion was dampened by the fact that this mysterious man had come from nowhere to essentially match Hux in rank. Hux resented it. Starkiller was his project, and he didn't want to share it with some religious zealot who had not even a single hour of Academy training under his belt. But he had swallowed his tongue and nodded when Snoke informed him of the newcomer, thanking the Supreme Leader for the continued opportunity to serve him.

Yet Hux was determined to find a way to benefit from the situation, to make use of this Kylo Ren. Thus far, the knight hadn't been particularly forthcoming with information. He wasn't keen to talk about himself, nor did he care to learn about the trivialities of others. Like Hux, he possessed a certain desire to see the galaxy returned to the relative stability of the Empire, though how exactly Ren planned to help with this goal remained nebulous. Any question addressing the topic was met with a "I do as Supreme Leader bids" response. Uninterested in hearing another permutation of the same reply, and with the burn of whiskey still fresh in his mouth, Hux was after different information this night.

“And in your... _Force studies_...”—Hux said the words with a certain amount of casual disdain— “have you ever met a young Jedi apprentice named Ben? Tall kid, dark hair, dark eyes.”

Ren had stiffened, then, cocked his head to one side. “Yes,” he'd said, “what of it?”

Hux had swallowed, a strange sensation blooming from within his chest. He shrugged. “He was... someone I met once, a long time ago. Also gifted with the Force.” _Or perhaps cursed_ , he thought to himself.

Ren hesitated, and Hux had struggled to maintain his patient composure as he waited for Ren to say more. “Ben was weak.” Ren said and paused again, pensively almost, Hux had thought, until the next words had come from behind that infernal mask. “And I destroyed him." Ren straightened, his voice dark. "He's gone.”

It had taken everything Hux had to keep his eyes locked onto the visor where he assumed Ren's eyes were. Everything not to let his mouth fall open with the astonished gasp that wanted to escape. As it was, there'd been nothing he could do about the quickened beating of his heart or the sinking feeling that unsettled his stomach. He'd swallowed again, differently now, squared his jaw, and nodded slightly. “I see.”

_-_

In the present, Ren stalks off and Hux burns with fresh hatred.

 _Enough_ _of this_. He tells himself, refocusing his attention on what needs to be done. On the paperwork he needs to sign off on, the new class of TIE fighters he needs to inspect, these repairs he should go and oversee. He should go over the acceptance speech he's prepared for the ceremony tonight. He again tears his mind away from the regrettable past, from Kylo Ren and the boy Hux had failed to save. He can't waste anymore time on this.

Thoughts of Ben-- or worse, _Kylo Ren_ \-- firmly pushed out of his head, Hux ensures that his last day as Colonel runs as smoothly as any other. Rounds are made, paperwork is signed, meetings are conducted.

That night, there is a banquet at which Hux is formally promoted to General of the First Order. Snoke appears only via holonet projection to announce the change, which Hux accepts graciously to a round of applause from others in the High Command. He delivers his speech with conviction befitting the military's new head. It is equal parts appreciative and deferential to the wisdom of the Supreme Leader, though the overwhelming majority of its content is not mere sentimentality, but serves to push forward his own ideas for the new direction of the Order, update listeners on the status and projections for Starkiller Base, and inspire confidence and motivation in his underlings.

Hux catches a glimpse of Kylo Ren, lingering in the shadows like the insufferable brooding child he is. Hux isn't even sure why he's here, but he refuses to acknowledge him as he concludes his speech to yet another round of applause. If Snoke is pleased, it doesn't register on his crooked visage, which remains as disinterested as ever. He announces that Hux will be given his own flagship, _The Finalizer._ As Hux opens his mouth to voice his gratitude, Snoke speaks again, informing him that he will share co-commandership of the star destroyer with none other than Kylo Ren.

With great difficulty, Hux remains impassive. “Yes, Supreme Leader. As you wish. Thank you.”

Applause. Snoke ends the transmission and champagne is served.

But suddenly Hux doesn't feel much like celebrating. He shakes hands with several colonels and admirals, thanking them for their congratulations, and allows his glass to be refilled before excusing himself to slip outside for a smoke as the party winds down.

If it's any colder than usual, Hux doesn't notice, his anger burning him up inside as he fumbles to light his cigarette. This was supposed to be his night and that ship was supposed to be his. Kylo Ren had nothing to do with First Order military affairs, shouldn't even be here at all. There is something deeply unsettling about his presence. The way he stalks around, hovering at a distance, not asking questions, but always knowing. The way he always seems to show up when Hux doesn't want to see him. Like now, outside on the frost-bitten balcony.

Ren strides over, standing awkwardly stiff before him. An almost imperceptible nod is the only acknowledgment Hux offers him.

“General Armitage Hux. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Ren.”

“You've been wanting this for a long time.”

“Yes.”

Kylo's helmeted head tilts to one side, carefully studying Hux. “But still you yearn for more.”

Hux eyes him suspiciously. That almost whimsical tone in his heavily modulated voice doesn't set well. He squares his jaw and says nothing in response.

Ren turns his head and lowers his voice. "You are wise not to make your greater ambitions known at this time."

If this is a threat, or if he is casually helping himself to a mindread, Hux won't stand for it.

“I will tell you this once, Ren: stay out of my head and out of my way, or so help me, I will inform Leader Snoke that his inexperienced _apprentice_ is making gross misuse of his powers, disrupting the functionality of First Order High Command. Good _night_.”

Hux pushes passed Ren and retires to his quarters, his second glass of champagne abandoned on the balcony railing.

 

Lying awake, his mind drifts... _never good enough. Weak. Useless_. But it's not important. These things shouldn't be able to plague him anymore. He's a general now. He's General of the First Order, and he commands a Resurgent-class star destroyer, regardless of if Kylo Ren is to share this command. Kylo Ren. He could think of a hundred, a thousand, officers more qualified to serve at his side, and if Force-sensitivity alone was what was required of the position, why _why_ couldn't it have been-- no. (Hadn't they fantasized about that at one point?) Forget it. (For him, it was more than once.) Don't even go there. He pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes, not wanting to recall his pathetic, childish delusions of ruling the galaxy with Ben, now a fully-fledged Jedi, at his side as protector, but of course they come anyway.

This is a slightly older version of Ben that has aged alongside Hux. His tattered padawan rags have been replaced with long, flowing robes made of the galaxy's finest woven lotus thread, dyed jet black. His dark hair is still longer than First Order regulation would allow, but it's soft and clean and he imagines several locks of it have been folded tightly into thin braids that don't hang any lower than the rest. These braids are sparsely adorned with beads of crimson and gold-- the same shades that Hux will choose in his royal insignia. While Hux meets with dignitaries, Ben will be able to see into their minds, to assess threats and sway hands, if need be, but usually for such negotiations simple intimidation will work well enough. Ben has full command of the Force now and the rumors of his strength, and devotion, precede him. Under the stability of their leadership, the galaxy is progressing smoothly now, important affairs don't get stuck in gridlock and bureaucracy. The war is over. And though he is known for his ferocity, Ben isn't as prone to wild and destructive mood swings anymore-- Hux having worked with him through these over the years. Now Ben has harnessed this raw energy and transformed it into a tool that he allows only Hux to command.

And Hux commands it well. In all arenas, public and private.

In the present, real world, Hux feels his cock twitch, but knows that any further indulgence of this fantasy would only be depressing, so he pointedly ignores it. His memories and stupid fantasies get kicked back into some distant piece of his brain, suppressed along with any further thoughts of Kylo Ren's unwanted intrusion into his life, and he wills himself to catch at least a bit of sleep before he rises again, too early, tomorrow for his first official day as General.

 

And, thus, the days pass, one after another, weeks turn into months that become years. General Hux grows colder, develops a reputation for ruthlessness. He works like a machine, keeps his mind sharp and attentive. He picks apart every scrap of information he comes across to analyze it for any possible threats. By decree of the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren's file is sealed and locked. It infuriates Hux that even at his rank, he's not allowed access to information regarding people aboard his own ship, especially given that Ren has the natural ability to see directly into the source of his inquiries, but Hux knows better than to ask the Supreme Leader about this. _You are wise not to make your greater ambitions known at this time._ Ren had told him that on the night of his promotion to General and it often rings in his head. He knew Ren had a flare for the dramatic, but whether this was meant as a warning or a threat was irrelevant next to the question of why Ren would make either one in the first place. Nevertheless, he takes it to heart.

And he does what he can to minimize his interactions with Kylo Ren, who is thankfully often away doing Snoke's bidding. The few and far between times they do occupy the same space, Hux feels his skin bristle and can barely contain his sneer of contempt for the way the knight hovers around unasked for, opining on matters he is utterly unqualified to speak to. He won't deny that Ren's Force abilities have proven advantageous when it comes to intelligence-gathering and prisoner interrogation, though he doesn't trust that Ren ever keeps his mind to himself. Ren is always lurking about, as if hesitating, waiting for the right moment to catch Hux alone again to pry into his private thoughts. Hux won't offer him the opportunity.

He remains alert at all times, aware of any rising rivals. If one meritless warrior could suddenly be made co-commander, it stood to reason that Hux could be replaced easily. He can't let it happen. He can't afford to indulge in downtime, and not just because of the tight schedule he's laid out for Starkiller; deep down, Hux knows that if he stops to rest body or mind, that's when everything he's been compartmentalizing and repressing for years will catch up to him at last. He must keep going.

So when he's not studying the New Republic and the Senate for exploitable weaknesses, he busies himself with recording impassioned morale boosting speeches, negotiating treaties with systems disillusioned by the New Republic's inefficacy, retooling and redesigning the Stormtrooper training program, making more and more realistic simulations, solidifying his own authority. The Starkiller weapon development is coming along as planned, the First Order has gained considerable support, and things are generally on the up and up.

Until one day, a stormtrooper goes rogue.

Hux watches with disgust and fury as the traitor and his accomplice, some prisoner Ren had dragged onboard, make their escape on a hijacked TIE fighter, inflicting heavy damage on _The Finalizer_ as they make their way back to Jakku to find the prisoner's droid.

And then Kylo Ren marches in unbidden as ever, with the gall to demand the droid be delivered to him unharmed, to insult Hux right there on the bridge with the insinuation that it was his own training methods what led to the defection. As if it weren't entirely Ren's fault for leaving his prisoner unsupervised and seeking revenge in the first place. As if his interests superseded those of the First Order's. Hux would sooner have this droid destroyed. He orders Niima Outpost to be levelled.

**

Hux refuses to be cowed in the face of the Supreme Leader as he delivers the news: the droid has evaded them again, the map will soon reach the Resistance. Hux has puts every spy and mercenary known on the chase, to alert the First Order at so much of a suspicion of an orange and white BB-unit sighting, but, he has a more immediate solution on-hand, and Snoke sanctions it. With the Republic destroyed, enemies of the First Order will have more to worry about than some astromech scavenger hunt. Any systems still weighing their choice of allegiance will see the strength of Starkiller Base and rush to submit to the will of the Order. He leaves at once to prepare the weapon for firing.

 

The speech he gives is impassioned and perfectly delivered. The weapon works flawlessly. In a matter of minutes, the Hosnian system is no more and The New Republic, its lies and corruption, have been wiped from existence. Already leaders of planetary systems near and far are declaring their allegiance to the First Order, abdicating their thrones and offering all numbers of resources to just be left in peace. Their choice is First Order or anarchy, and with the might of the Order's arsenal, what chance do a rabble of anarchists have? And, better yet, a reconnaissance ship has tracked a Resistance fighter back to the Ileenium system. Hux could have the exact planet located in mere hours, weapon charged and the base obliterated. No Republic, no Resistance-- this conflict could be over once and for all. This map ordeal will be insignificant compared to what Hux is accomplishing. Hux is rebuilding the Empire. Hux will  _be_ the Empire. He was wrong before; he needs no one else to help him with this conquest, he will do it himself.

Yet Hux is not happy. All the while he'd been overseeing Starkiller's preparation and firing, Ren had still been off searching for that blasted map, had captured some scavenger and brought her here for interrogation instead. Idiot couldn't even follow his own self-delegated mission to retrieve the droid, but settled for yet another defiant Resistance prisoner. Hux couldn't wait to see how this one would go. Incensed, he was going to make sure Supreme Leader knew of this. He will not rest until Kylo Ren is off his ship, his base, and out of his way for good.

**

Surely... it couldn't have been. He didn't get a good enough look at the face, but he's never seen a more distinctive one, one that requires less time to be able to identify instantly. And this is a face he's been imagining, recalling, against his better judgment he always chides himself, for years, still foolishly hung up on a single incident that he's never been able to fully forget. Ren has an uncanny resemblance to Padawan Ben, the same disproportionate features and spattering of dark spots. It can't be possible. No, he tells himself. With everything that's happening, he's clearly becoming delirious. Regardless, now is not the time for this. And so what if they look alike? Ren's recklessness has caused enough of a mess, Hux won't add to it. He won't wait for Ren to exit the holochamber; he won't indulge in this when there is this much at stake. He marches quickly towards the central control room to issue orders to recharge the weapon.

His technicians snap to attention. Hux watches the gauges slowly-- _too slowly_ \-- rise as the power is leeched from the nearby star. Suddenly, an alarm blares-- the shields have fallen.

From the viewport, Hux sees the first X-wing rip across the sky, firing at Hux's TIE fighter fleet.

"Dispatch all squadrons."

 _Fuck_.

 

And it's not long until the world is crumbling.

And with the base infiltrated, the planet collapsing, Hux knows it's over.

“The collapse of the planet has begun.”

He had hoped to have had slightly less emotion behind the announcement, but the sickening feeling of failure was choking him from the inside, more so that the growing realization that this was the ship he was to down with. He would be fine with death at this point, but that's not what Supreme Leader asks of him.

“Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren. It's time to complete his training.”

He blinks only once before the message settles in. _Unbelievable,_ he thinks. _Fucking Ren._ Ruining even this, his death. He can't even go down honorably like a proper General. No, he's being commanded to retrieve the hateful Kylo Ren and flee the ship that crumbles around them while the rest of his crew perish here.

 _Fine,_ he convinces himself. He's not fated to die this day. It's not his fault if they are. Whipping out his data pad, he finds Ren's position, nowhere near where he's supposed to be, naturally, but somewhere out in the bloody forest. He could snap the data pad in half, he's so angry. But he won't lower himself to that. He points to two stormtroopers and commands them to follow him as he hops aboard a snowspeeder and jets off in the direction his tracker indicates.

He's not sure what happened to the shields. They were designed to be impenetrable, a flawless defense against anything coming in. There hadn't even been that many Resistance ships, and those that had come were hardly impressive. In the end, it took only one. One skilled pilot to hone in on one small, simple, fault in everything Hux had endeavored his entire life to build. He wouldn't have thought it possible, except he's seeing the earth below him fissure and crack, hearing the sirens blaring from the base as he whips through the forest towards Kylo Ren.

When they get there, Hux jumps from his speeder, flanked by the two stormtroopers who'd followed him. Ren is a mess, lying on his back, half-buried in snow, half-dead, singed, battered, blood everywhere.

_Something bad was happening... I don't know what it was, what had happened, but I was injured. Gravely. Lying in the snow._

Ren is barely able to lift his head. His face. It's slashed, a near perfect diagonal bisection of crimson burn across the features. Slashed, but no less recognizable as he meets Hux's eyes.

_I... don't think you wanted to. You were doing it because you were under orders to._

“It is you,” Hux breathes as the two stormtroopers pass him to grab Ren and hoist his arms over their shoulders.

“Hux,” Ren says. And loses consciousness.

Hux has to bite the inside of his cheek, hard, to keep from doing the same.

_It felt so real._

***

 

To Hux, nothing feels real. They've survived, barely. The loss of Starkiller will undoubtedly cost the First Order dearly, not just the weapon itself but the sheer number of personnel and ships that had been stationed on the base will not be easily replaced. Lights dimmed to 20%, Hux sits alone in his quarters aboard _The Finalizer_ at the end of this infernal day, shaking with some lethal combination of grief, anger, disbelief... and fear. His trousers are still coated in soot and dusty debris from the collapse of the Base, his tunic was as well but he's stripped it and his greatcoat and dumped them unceremoniously in the floor. Somewhere amidst the chaos he'd sustained a shallow laceration down his forearm that he hasn't bothered to attend to. Blood from it has stained his undershirt, which must also be rank with dried sweat, but he can't tell. He's gone through an entire pack of cigarettes and has yet to feel any iota of relief.

He's foregone glasses now and drinks directly from the bottle of brandy he'd been planning to sip while toasting his colleagues over cheers to the end of the Republic. His hair is absolutely wrecked and when he touches his face he feels the scratch of a day's worth of stubble. His normally well-structured mind is upturned, contents scrambled. His brain swims with incomplete thoughts that he can barely separate from his feelings about them. He needs to get it the fuck together, to start drafting plans for the next Base, to reconfigure the budget, to order an inventory check, but instead he's holed up in his room having something resembling a mental breakdown.

By all rights, he should be dead. The only reason he's not ( _yet_ , he reminds himself) is because of the Supreme Leader's order that he deliver Snoke his apprentice. Kylo Ren. Ben. It had been him the whole time. Years he'd been hiding right in front of him, not working with him as they'd briefly dreamed, but against him. The whole time.

Hux is delirious with sleep deprivation now, stress, fatigue, and complete exhaustion. And wrath mixed with brandy is the perfect cocktail for vengeance. He succumbs to the whims of his violent fury and decides to confront him. Now.

From the doorway of his room in medbay, Hux is steaming with rage, more than he's ever felt towards Kylo Ren, perhaps. No, this rage is directed at Ben.

“Hux,” the knight says, his voice coming out in little more than a cracked sob.

“Everyone in here is dismissed,” Hux commands, not taking his searing gaze from the eyes on the man lying strapped to the medical cot, various wires and tubes coming out of his skin from odd angles. Ren's wounds are only half bandaged, but Hux's simmering bared-teeth scowl wordlessly convinces even the most strong-willed nurse to drop what he's doing and leave without protest. Distantly, he notes that he hadn't bothered to put his tunic back on before coming here so he probably looks completely unhinged. _Good._ Hux removes the glove on his right hand, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers, watching Kylo as he does it.

“Hux, I can explain--”

Before Kylo can get another word out, Hux has his blaster drawn, cocked, and aimed directly at him. He sticks the barrel into the oozing mess on Kylo's side. Kylo winces in pain, a raw scream tearing from his throat.

Hux leans in closer to growl into Ren's ear. “Saboteur. For years, _years_ , you have been tearing my ship apart, upsetting my plans left and right, humiliating me in front of my subordinates.  _You_ let that pilot escape, and _you_ repeated the mistake with that scavenger. My base is gone because of _you._  And this entire time, you were _you._  A decade and counting, how long were you going to continue this charade? Did it give you sick satisfaction to trick me and make a fool of me? Did you laugh behind my back at your clever deceit?"

Kylo tenses, his face contorted in several forms of agony. "It's not as you think!" Tears are stinging his eyes again when he turns to look at Hux again. As if he's still that scared, pathetic 19 year old child he was when Hux left him. _He's not_.

Hux twists the barrel in deeper, blood trickling out the wound and down his side. “And to think I'd mourned your death," Hux snarls as Kylo writhes, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger right now and kill you myself, you deplorable bastard.”

“Do it,” Kylo whispers, barely audible. “Just... do it. Please.” He doesn't even have the sense or dignity to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks now. He's looking up at Hux through spiked lashes, begging for Hux to save him, again. He puts his hand on the one Hux has wrapped around the trigger, pulling it closer. “Force knows I deserve it, Hux."”

Hux sneers, wrenching his arm back, withdrawing the blaster with a sickening _pop_ , blood dripping from the barrel onto the pristine floors of the medical room. It's eerily quiet as he slides the weapon back into its hidden holster. “I told you once,” Hux says, evenly through heavy breaths, “ _nice_ was never taught at the Academy. I will return you to your master, where I hope you suffer a fate worse than death.”

He turns and leaves. As the door slides shut behind him, he hears Kylo let out a broken sob.

_Good._

==

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc...
> 
> I said 'probably undertagged' for mild gore and threatening, abusive behavior by canonical bad guys. Also some references to obsessive perfectionism that is clearly leading to paranoia and a mental breakdown haaa, suffer.


End file.
